


Something to hold in the night

by akosmia



Series: little talks [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, kylo ren braids his hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akosmia/pseuds/akosmia
Summary: "Are you," she starts, walking up to him, tilting her head to her side to better look at him. His hands are still into his hair, but his fingers don't move anymore and he just looks at her, blush deepening on his face as she comes right before him. "Braiding your hair?"He doesn't quite know how to talk, so he presses his lips together and finally lowers his hands, under her curious gaze. "I might be." he admits, in the end.





	Something to hold in the night

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written a fic in years, but these two have taken over my life so, this happened. it was inspired by the fact that Adam Driver had braids under his helmet during TFA and i kinda went from there
> 
> english is not my first language so tell me if you spot any mistake!

He's in private chambers when it happens, and he recognizes it immediately - a static silence permeating the world around him, filtering all the noises to nothing and intensifying the dull sound of his heartbeat in his own ears. It's like a tension, growing in the space between them, until it reaches its breaking point.

And then she's there. 

He doesn't flinch anymore, and neither does she. They're used to these sudden connections, the Force trying to pull them together even if they reluctantly look at each other now. It has almost become an habit, turning to face her, lowering his gaze to catch hers, adjusting his frame so their sides almost touch but not really, electricity in the space that divides them - she almost feels like a part of his body by now, a limb brutally severed when the connection is interrupted, a phantom pain that always comes back to torment him when she's not there.

There's a sort of ease in their postures, when they're around each other. It's like they're used to it, and they automatically react, strings connecting them together, biding their soul and their bodies alike. She moves, and he moves too, orbiting around each other in perfect synch, like stars in a constellation.

"Are you here to pester me about coming back to the light?" he asks, not looking her in the eyes yet. His words were meant to be harsh and cruel, like he always is, but somehow a sort of gentleness takes hold of him when she's there, and there is no cruelty in his words, but just some kind of tired resignation mixed with irony. He's always like this, when she's around - his walls crumbled down to nothing, his cruel intents swept away by the raising and falling of her eyelashes. She looks at him, and he's a boy again.

He can hear her laugh, and it's a maddening sound - beautiful and fleeting, something he tries to savour because he knows how precious it is. She laughs softly, and he can sense her shake her head. "No," she says, simply. "Believe me or not, I was just going to sleep".

He laughs too, and it's an hollow sound - the sound a ghost could make, haunting and terrifying. He doesn't remember what laughing feels like at all, but she makes it a little easier to try. "Yeah, me too".

There's a sort of tension between the two of them - a good kind of tension, something that pulls them together and apart at the same time, and puts some sort of calm in their mind as they quietly breathe in and reach for each other. He'd call it balance, were this word less terrifying. 

She scoffs. "I don't understand this at all," she says, and he knows she means the Force, and the mysterious way it works. He has years and years of training on his shoulders, Luke's voice telling him what the Force truly is, the sacred Jedi texts whispering him all the secrets it holds - and he still doesn't understand it either. He laughs again, still not looking at her. "I just- what are you doing?"

He can feel it - she's turning into his direction, and she's seeing him for the first time tonight, and there's a sort of wonder hanging around her mind. He can sense the way she looks at him, astonished but fascinated, and he finally notices the way his hands automatically have been moving into his hair, almost automatically.

He's been so used to it that the gestures are almost coded in his mind - something he doesn't think about at all, something he repeats with an ease that comes from habit. 

He blushes, as he turns to face her. "Nothing." he says, meeting her widened eyes. There's a smile hanging at the corner of her mouth, and she looks surprised, yes, but amused. She's quite pleasant to look at, and for a moment he forgets about everything else that isn't her face. 

"Are you," she starts, walking up to him, tilting her head to her side to better look at him. His hands are still into his hair, but his fingers don't move anymore and he just looks at her, blush deepening on his face as she comes right before him. "Braiding your hair?"

He doesn't quite know how to talk, so he presses his lips together and finally lowers his hands, under her curious gaze. "I might be." he admits, in the end.

She laughs again - it's not the soft chuckle he often hears when she's around or the brief sound without meaning that people usually reserve him. It's pure and simple giggling, and it's a sound he almost forgot, after all these years of silence and screams and pain - but she giggles like a child right in front of him, and something in his chest feels thigh and painful. But it's a kind of pain that feels almost good, and it leaves him surprised - he didn't know he could feel like this.

"Sorry," she says, when her laugh goes quiet and she tries to keep a straight face. "I just didn't expect this from you".

She looks at him with shining eyes, and there's something in curve of her lips that catches his gaze like no other thing ever did - she's something precious and wonderful, a marvel of freckles and dimples, light cascading from her skin as she smiles at him. 

He smiles too - and it's weird. His muscles hurt and he's not used to it at all, the feeling of something breaking his face hard to ignore. But he smiles, and it comes a little bit easier as she looks at him.

"My mother used to do it, when I was a kid, before putting me to sleep, and the habit stayed, somehow, even after everything." he tells her, without knowing why - but she's there in front of him, and she looks right into his eyes like he's something special, like he's truly worth something, and that's what shakes him to his core. He doesn't remember the last time somebody had truly looked at him like he meant something. 

But she does. She smiles up at him, and she stretches her hand in the space that divides them. He almost flinches, panic flowing in his veins as memories come alive in his mind - memories of other hands stretched in front of him, of pain and bruises and fear. But she's just kind - her fingers stroke his temple in the tenderest of touches, and she gives him a small smile. 

"That's very sweet." she says, her fingertips brushing against his cheekbone. Her touch rewrites everything in him, and he comes alive under her hand. He doesn't remember the last time somebody had been kind to him, and he doesn't understand it at all - kindness is a foreign language he doesn't know how to speak, and he stutters his words, stumbling upon them like a kid.

But she's a patient teacher, and she strokes his face as she looks at him, with eyes that speak of understanding and belonging. He doesn't know what those words mean anymore, but they seem real enough when she's around.

"Well, that was the only thing I could hide from Snoke." he explains, shrugging. He remembers the feeling of that voice in his head, the fear it still brings, the pain it still causes - it's something he can't get rid of, even after everything, but it almost reduces to dust, when she looks at him with kindness in her eyes. "He knew how I felt towards my parents, and he twisted it to his advantage. But he didn't care about this," he gestures vaguely into the direction of his hair, half braided, half still loose around his face. "So it stayed".

Her eyes glitter in the dark room, and they look like stars, shining against the shadows that claim his soul. Darkness suits him, somehow - it's a cape he has learned to throw on himself to shield himself from everything that pains him, but somehow she frees him of it, and he feels naked and vulnerable and afraid without its comforting shadow, but he also feels alive for the first time. She strokes his skin, and he's crumbling, but it feels like he's coming back together too.

"Can I help you?" she asks, with a smile. Her head is tilted again, and he's enthralled by the way she moves - gracefully, spontaneously, no trace of thinking in it. Her movements are a symphony he can't stop listening. "You can show me how to do it, and I'll braid your hair".

There's a moment of silence - he looks at her, trying to understand her, but truth be told, there's nothing to understand at all. There's no scheme, no hidden motifs, no greater plan - she's just being kind, she's just being Rey.

"Yes," he says, in the end, and his face breaks again as he tries to smile. It's painful, but a good sort of pain - one that brings him back somehow, like a sun slowly warming up his frozen bones. "Thank you".

Those words taste strange on his lips - they feel new and unsettling, and leave something behind in what is his tattered mind, something that feels almost like gratitude. It scares him, but she's there, holding him through it all, with her hand still on his face and her fingers changing him.

She makes him sit on his bed, in silence. There's some sort of grace in her touch, as she cards her fingers through his hair, and he is reminded of a different time, a time in which light and love seemed as easy as breathing - when he was just a kid, and the voice in his soul was just that, just a voice with little power over him. He tells her how to braid his hair, helping her as she moves her fingers through his black strands, and he feels at home, for the first time in more than ten years. There's something in his ribcage that is beating furiously against his bones, and he's surprised to realize he still has a heart.

"You're good at it." he murmurs, his eyelids fluttering shut as her fingers brush through his hair, gently, making him sleepy and peaceful. He can hear her laughing, softly - a sound so beautiful the whole galaxy just stops to listen.

"I've done my hair for years, I'm used to it." she replies, as she works, quick and dexterous as ever, meticulous in every little thing she does, twisting and crossing the black strands. "How come you wear you hair so long? Doesn't it get in the way when you're fighting?" she asks, focused on the braids. She talks about fighting like it's just a thing he does, and she doesn't mention why he fights at all - and he's grateful for it. He just wants to forget it all for one shining moment, and come alive again under her gentle fingers.

He sighs, and there's a faint blush on his cheeks, again. "I didn't like my ears, I just wanted to cover them," he confesses, his voice barely a whisper, but she hears him all the same, and there's a softness, in her - he can sense it, a smile hovering in the air, eyes looking right into his back with kindness. "Then it kind of stuck, I think".

Her fingers braid the last strands, her skin barely touching the base of his neck - a haunting sensation that he will forever keep in his mind as proof of something miraculous and terrible in the galaxy. "Well, I like your ears." she replies, quietly, and he can feel a smile in her voice. Her fingers linger against his skin, and then she pulls away, gently patting his shoulder. "There you go".

He turns to face her, and she's smiling and something flickers within him - something that he'd call his soul, were it not dead years ago. But Rey smiles, and maybe everything is possible when she does, and he can even have a soul. 

He makes space for her on his bed, and she sits beside him, no protests uttered. This night almost feels like a truce, and the whole galaxy is just a dream they don't talk about, as they stand side by side.

"Thank you." he says, again, and the words seems less strange now on his lips. There's surprise on her face, but also tenderness, and when she takes his hand into hers, she looks at him with pure devotion on her features. 

"I think it suits you." she says, smiling, eyeing him. Her thumb strokes the back of his hand, brushing against his veins, and he feels her in his blood, rewriting him from the inside. She pours light in her touch, and he shines again, somehow, even if for just a second. "You look very … royal".

He laughs, quietly. "It was my mother," he tells her, allowing himself to remember his life before everything happened - something Snoke forbidded, something he forbidded himself for the pain seemed too much to bear. "She used to be a princess. Well, she still is, I believe. She made my hair fit for a prince".

There's a melancholy in the way he talks, and his new, fragile heart breaks under the weight of it, but she intertwines their fingers, and somehow it's more bearable. He thinks of the nights spent with his mother, on her lap as she braided his hair with care and love, telling him old stories of the Rebellion. It hurts, and it breaks him, but he feels like he's somehow putting all the pieces back together, too.

She smiles. "It's really sweet." she says, again, and she makes it so. The memory is poisoned by pain and regret, but she says it's sweet, and it is again. There's no trace of fear, rage, suffering - there's only his mother, kissing his forehead and putting him to sleep. She purifies him, almost as if he was a bleeding Kyber crystal, and he comes out as new under her gentle gaze. He cannot be again the Ben Solo he was before everything happened - he has bled too much for it. But he can be a new person, a Ben Solo who can look her in the eyes, and feel worthy of her kindness. He wants to believe that, at least for tonight.

"Rey," he starts, her name a broken prayer on his lips, grace in his newfound soul as he utters it, but she just shakes her head and puts a finger on his mouth, delicate as always. She's ruthless and brutal most of the times, but when she's there, next to him, she threads her fingers through his hair with the sweetest touch, and he's breathing again. She truly is light - terrible and unforgiving at times, but also gentle and warm.

"Don't say anything." she murmurs, leaning in - her face is so close he can trace all her freckles with his fingers, and he can feel the slight breeze of her eyelashes as they flutter. "Let's just stay like this, tonight, okay?"

He nods, and she removes her finger, brushing against his skin as she lowers her hand. "Okay." he agrees, and there's again a smile hanging at the corner of her lips. It's something beautiful, and haunting - he asks himself how will he ever be able to forget it, but he already knows he can't, so he does the only thing it makes sense in this terrible galaxy.

He kisses her. He presses his lips on the corner of her mouth, brushing against her skin, and he can feel the way her eyelashes flutter shut at the contact, a hurricane that shakes him to his roots. Her arms come to encircle his shoulders as she keeps him here, against her, and he can feel her heartbeat in the space between them. It's a nice, rhythmic sound that feels almost like the promise of a home, a lullaby uttered in a vast galaxy, showing him the way back.

They stay like this for a while, just savouring what it feels like to hold on onto each other - his lips against her skin, her arms on his shoulder, her fingers playing lazily with the braids at the base of his neck, making him shiver. It's a new sensation, and there's marvel and wonder in his frightened heart - he never knew somebody could feel so close. 

It's all so innocent and delicate - his lips don't search for hers, there's no raw desire or desperation. It's just her, stroking his back as he clings to her body, their bones turning into stardust as the galaxy moves around them.

He can feel it when it happens - it's a sort of electricity, the sounds of the world coming alive again, deafening him, and he knows she knows too by the soft, sweet sigh that escapes her lips. The Force connects them, pulling them together, but it pulls them apart too, leaving them lonely and tired.

He pulls away, only her hands lingering around his neck, grounding him to her. She looks sad, resignation mixed with weariness on her face, and he traces her freckles with his fingertips, counting them like constellations moving against a black sky. She's a whole galaxy he wants to explore, stars shining and dying in curve of her smile, and she looks like something ethereal and wonderful as she stares at him, a gentle expression on her face. Kindness terrifies him and it makes him tremble, but it feel nice when she watches him like that.

"Goodnight, Ben." she says, and then she leans in, and kisses his forehead. It reminds him of another time and it feels like salvation running down his veins, grace shining in his battered heart when she calls him by his name. He holds her into his arms for what it feels like a lifetime, as he closes his eyes, relaxing under her lips - and it's lifetime of light, love, understanding, a lifetime of Rey smiling up at him and teaching him kindness. A lifetime he'd die for.

But it's just a second, and she disappears the moment after and there's no trace of her presence at all - just the feeling of lips brushing against his skin, and his arms holding the air.

He sighs, as he lowers his arms and open his eyes. She's not there anymore, but somehow he can still feel her, and the kindness she poured onto him flows in his veins with his blood. He brings his hand to his hair, fingers brushing against the braids as he recalls to his mind the way her hands had worked his strands, so quickly, so methodically as she smiled down on him. There's no trace of her in this galaxy, but there is here, in his room, in his mind.

In this newfound heart he feels beating against his ribcage, reminding him what it's like to live.

That night, he sleeps without nightmares for the first time in years, and he remembers sweet, gentle fingers brushing against his face, granting him some sort of absolution, waking up his broken soul.

He dreams of her, and he's at peace.


End file.
